


Honeysuckle Hair

by Imagining_in_the_Margins



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Self-Insert, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:00:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24530434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imagining_in_the_Margins/pseuds/Imagining_in_the_Margins
Summary: Spencer has some words to say about Reader’s curly hair.
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 94





	Honeysuckle Hair

Today was supposed to be a good day. It was not. Because today, I locked basically every single item a girl needs to survive in my car. In the rain. Alone. 

It was like as soon as I made the mistake, the sky opened up to drench me in irony and misfortune. I tugged helplessly at the door to my car, like I could will it to open with my mind. But I couldn’t. I didn’t have telekinetic powers and the keys sitting in the passenger’s seat next to my umbrella and purse didn’t move, either. 

I could have tried to run to the storefront, but I quickly realized that the time I spent pretending like speed could save me from all the anti-theft functions of my car had already ruined all of my plans. 

Besides, the torrential downpour that had so kindly waited to start until after I shut the door was beginning to wane now, like it had accomplished its objective in soaking me straight to the bone. At least my phone wasn’t wet, I guess. Although I sure would have liked to have it so I could call someone. Figures. 

I groaned loudly, thunking my head against the top of my car as I gave into the temptation of accepting my fate. Today was doomed. 

And naturally, just like that, the sun peeked out behind the clouds, mocking me once more for my terrible timing. I glared at the reflection of the light bouncing off the metallic surface of my car, thinking to myself all the different ways I would personally punish mother nature. 

Padding over to the store, I wrung out my shirt the best I could. I was going to have to find a way to get a hold of my boyfriend, because there was no way I was going to be on time now. I’d either need to cancel or _seriously_ delay the plans, because now I have to go all the way back to my apartment, blow dry the giant mane on my head, and straighten it _again_. 

Luckily the people in the store took pity on me, giving me the number for Triple A and letting me call them. Within 15 minutes they were here, dutifully unlocking that wretched door. Still damp, I signed off all the paperwork, climbing into my car and finally looking in the mirror. 

My hair had devolved into the same frizzy, poofy, disastrous mess that it always did. For some reason, I attempted to tame it with my hands, patting, smoothing, and pulling with my hands to no avail. I guess I should call Spencer; he was expecting me over an hour ago. 

Then it happened. As I hit his name in my recently called, I heard a very familiar ringtone from behind my car. I spun around so quickly I’m surprised I didn’t hit my head on the visor. 

“(Y/n)?” His voice sounded behind me and in my ear as he came into my view. “Are you alright?" 

Shit. What do I do? If I talk, he’ll most definitely hear me, assuming he doesn’t notice my car in a few seconds anyway. But if I don’t talk, he’s going to freak out because I just called him and now I’m not answering!

"Uhhhh,” was the very graceful middle ground I landed on. I am the pinnacle of grace. 

I scrambled to end the call as he started to walk over to my door, a smile on his face as he saw me through the rearview mirror. I was _not_ smiling, however. I dropped my phone, using both of my hands to gather my hair and try to compress it the best I could around my shoulder furthest from the door. 

Yeah, it didn’t work. 

“Hey, what happened? I got worried and came looking for you and figured you wo–” He stopped dead in his tracks as he leaned down to peer into the car.

“Whoa,” he started, “your hair. It’s…” 

Oh my god, I cannot do this right now. In a grocery store parking lot. I really can’t. Why the hell do I not have a **SINGLE** hair tie in my entire car? I turned the key in the ignition before he could continue that thought. 

I rolled down the window as I shut the door, shouting out in a very panicked tone, “Hey Spencer! Something came up. I was just calling to cancel, so. Thanks for worrying about me. But, clearly, I’m fine. Talk to you later bye!" 

I buckled my seat belt without looking at my very bewildered boyfriend. Sorry, Spence. I’ll explain later. Maybe. Or I’ll just die from embarrassment in the comfort of my own home. 

Thankfully, he stepped back as he saw I was not going to stop, and I backed out of the spot and sped off before he could protest any further. Hopefully he’s just too dazed to do anything about it for now.

The rest of the way back to my apartment was spent trying not to think about it. 

As I entered my apartment, immediately stripping off the still damp clothes, I realized that my plan had a few flaws. Like, for starters, the fact Spencer Reid and his stupid eidetic would _definitely_ remember every detail of that encounter. And two, that was by far the most suspicious way I ever could have left. 

Whatever, I’ll just get something dry on, straighten my hair, and go apologize.

Right? Wrong.

Seconds after I slipped into my boyfriend’s oversized sweatshirt and some pajama shorts, there was a fervent knocking on my door. Shit. I considered acting like I wasn’t there, but he started to knock again. "I saw your car, I know you’re here. Please let me in." 

Today seriously could not get any worse. I dragged my feet all the way to the door, unlocking it and pulling it open at an equally slow pace. His worried, panting presence made me feel a little bit guilty. Okay, a lot guilty. 

"Hey,” I mumbled, my hands once again trying to hold down my hair. 

“What the heck was that?” He asked, scrunching his face into a very tired, confused look. Did he actually run here from the visitor’s parking? 

“What was what? You’ll have to be more specific.” I played dumb, wondering if I could somehow still convince him this was all just a fever dream. 

“I really don’t think that’s necessary.” Finally able to catch his breath, he entered my apartment. I let the door shut behind him and followed him over to the couch. He remained standing, but I sat down, curling up in a ball with my knees to my chest with a very present pout on my face. I felt like a child about to get a lecture. 

“Are you okay?” He asked for the second time today. His eyes followed my hands that refused to separate from my hair, and I could hear the cogs turning in his mind. He didn’t say anything. 

“No,” I mumbled, finally admitting the truth as he took a seat next to me, his body only half on the couch as he remained turned towards me.

“What’s wrong?" 

God, he could be so dense sometimes. Either that or he’s trying to make me feel better. It only sort of worked. 

"My hair!” I whined, letting go of it and letting the curls return to their natural un-tamable state.

“Your hair? What about it?" 

"You saw it! Like this!” My voice was as loud as it was distressed. He was still looking at me like I grew two heads, which, considering the size of my hair, I basically did. 

“Yeah, so? What’s wrong with it?” He had to be kidding me. "It’s curly!“ I said, motioning around my head like it would make it clearer for him

"I mean, yeah… It is.” He nodded hesitantly, narrowing his eyes as he leaned closer to me and continued to inspect me. 

“It looks terrible!” I pointed out once more, giving up with a groan as his mouth hung open, making an extended befuddled noise before saying, "What are you talking about?“ 

I leaned back against the couch and away from him, pulling at the strands of my hair and inspecting the way they sprung back. I sighed, "You aren’t supposed to see it like this." 

”…Why not?“ The sweetness in his tone made me hate him even more right now. I don’t understand why he was making me walk him through this. He’s a smart guy, I’m sure he can figure this out. Was he doing one of those profiler tricks on me or something? 

I give up. "Because I hate it, Spencer. You’re only supposed to see me at my best. Not when I look like a bunch of stupid birds built a shitty nest on my head. I want you to think I’m pretty for at least a little bit longer before you figure out the truth." 

He moved off the couch, crouching on the ground in front of me as he tried to look me in the eyes. No matter how hard I tried to avoid it, they were calling to me. Tenderly, he asked barely above a whisper, "Again, _what_ are you talking about?" 

I sunk down further inside the warmth of the fabric that still smelled like him. My voice was stifled and somber as I said, "Please stop trying to be nice." 

"I’m not trying to do anything but understand. I’m really confused." 

His hands found their way onto my legs, and I appreciated the warmth and connection to him. Even under these circumstances. He looked at me like I was his whole world, and I’m not really sure how he managed to do that.

”(Y/n), there’s nothing you could do that would stop me from thinking you’re the most beautiful girl in the world.“ 

I don’t know how he managed to do that, either. He was so convincing, I almost believed him. But I just scoffed, reaching up to pull at the hoodie strings and pretend like I’m not hanging on every word he’s saying.

"And I really wish you would have let me finish my sentence at the store, because I wanted to tell you that your hair looks amazing." 

"Thanks,” I mumbled with the most sarcasm I could possibly contain in one word. His smile faltered, and he tried to summon words to explain what was on his mind. He always looked so precious when he did that.

"I’m serious. It’s like… the way sunshine spreads in a halo around the sun. Or how the waves turn in on themselves when they find their way back to shore.” I looked at him unconvinced, but obviously wanting to hear more.

So he continued. “Did you know that of all the different ways to grow, honeysuckles grow in spirals? It’s called a twining vine, and they are often rough and bristled, but at the end of the day they produce just as beautiful, sweet smelling flowers. And that’s what you are… to me. Beautiful.”

I pushed his hand away with a bit of a smile, flattered by his words but still overwhelmed by my own insecurity. 

"Everyone throughout my entire life has told me it looks better straight. I’m not stupid. I’m not a honeysuckle." 

At this point, his words became more forceful, although not in a violent or hostile way. No, he wanted me to see how serious he was being when he said, "Who cares what everyone else thinks?" 

His hands left my legs, traveling up to my hands still fiddling with the strings. He grabbed them both in his, looking into my eyes as let out a shaky breath. He acted like the words were so heavy for him to bear alone.

"You’ll always be beautiful to me, no matter what. But _especially_ when you’re like this." 

I shifted, my hands grabbing onto his while I put my legs down, opening myself back up to him figuratively and literally. "Like what?" 

"Yourself. _That_ is the girl I like." 

I swear I almost cried. The way he looked at me like I was breaking his heart by not seeing myself the way he clearly saw me. I couldn’t change it all in one day, but he certainly didn’t hurt. I gave a half quirked grin, taking my hands back to pat the seat next to me.

He took my offer, sitting down and scooting impossibly closer to me so he could put his arm around me. I leaned into his chest, forgetting for a moment why I was ever worried in the first place.

He cleared his throat before he joked, “You know, I mean it when I say I’d find you pretty no matter what, but…” He didn’t sound like he was about to insult me, which made me a little bit excited to hear what he was about to pull.

"The sweatshirt and a smile certainly don’t hurt, either,” he said through the side of his mouth, lightening the mood even more. I couldn’t contain the smile spreading across my face, although I certainly tried, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing the effect he had on me. I covered my face with my fingers, still looking up at him through the gaps.

He didn’t move me or change me, just stroked the twisted strands out of my face, laughing at the bits of me he saw peeking through my fingers. 

“There she is. The most effortlessly, naturally beautiful girl in the world." 

"Thanks,” I whispered, leaning up to give him a small kiss on the cheek.

"Anytime,” he promised in reply. 


End file.
